


I Care For You Still (and I Will Forever)

by Seventens



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Adopted Sibling Relationship, Birthday Fluff, Birthday Presents, Domestic Fluff, Emotional, Family Dynamics, Family Fluff, Friendship, Gen, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I also wrote it while very dehydrated, I made wilbur a Tyler the Creator stan I don't know why that happened, Other, Siblings, Title from a Frank Ocean Song, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit and tubbo are Siblings, big brother wilbur, but he does have the vibes you know, dad phil, this is all fraternal/platonic don't be gross, you're welcome molly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-14 23:06:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29054097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seventens/pseuds/Seventens
Summary: “You didn’t have to, you know” Wilbur remarks, pulling Techno from his thoughts. “I was saving... you didn’t... have to do that for me.” he nods toward the record player, still slowly whirring out soft hums and gentle vocals.Techno sits down next to his brother’s feet, scoffing lightly. “It’s your birthday, dummy. Of course I got you something you wanted.”Wilbur likes records, Techno sees an opportunity.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 69





	I Care For You Still (and I Will Forever)

“2:30, that’s it Techno, I’ll be in and out, you won’t even remember I’m gone”

At around 3:15, Techno looks around at the sprawling ceiling of the shopping center Wilbur begged him to take him to, cursing his brother’s name. Being the one of the pair that can drive had it’s ups, but one of the downs, Techno will tell you, is probably your older brother, with the excitement he used to have over a wall of trading cards at the grocery market, begging you to go out with him to get more vinyl records. Records he doesn’t need, by the way. The guy doesn’t even have a record player to play the things on, so what good were they hanging on his wall?

When Wilbur emerges, he’s accompanied by two brown paper bags, full of records. Techno can’t help but scoff a little.

“Jesus, Wil. Aren’t those things like, 20 a piece?”

“18.99, actually, special deal today.” Says Wilbur, flashing that distinct grin, before turning on his heel and marching onward without waiting for his brother. “Why do you think I asked you to bring me?”

And so, they make their way out of the seemingly vacuous shopping center. Techno looks over at the bags again, sure they’re a little heavy. But based on how posessively his older brother clings onto the handles, and Techno’s understanding of his brother’s iron grip on masculinity, he says nothing. Except, of course, popping the trunk that Wilbur thinks never closes (It does, he just doesn’t close it hard enough).

THe car ride home is unusually quiet. It’s pretty good weather today, usually by now he’d start playing something on the radio. And usually on sunny days, it was something exciting, something good. He turns his head a bit to ask Wilbur to please put something on so we’re not driving in silence, but is stopped when he sees it. Sees him admiring each of the records: running his fingers over the intricate album art, designs he’d never seen blown up to such a big scale.

“What’s that in the back... oh, it’s a sports car, I thought it was just another bee. Why would it be a bee though, it’s a white car” he muses, cracking himself up a little bit at the observation. He leans in closer, scanning the cover intuitively as he slowly turns it to the back “the car in the back makes sense, though, he uses buying cars as a metaphor for fame during the whole album. I think you’d like this one, Techno...” he runs his fingers down the track list on the back, as though to make sure that the records aren’t missing any songs.

That’s when it hit him.

The guy doesn’t even have a record player to play the things on, so what good were they hanging on his wall?

The guy doesn’t even have a record player

Phil had briefed everyone on the importance of not forgetting to get Wilbur something for his birthday, just around the corner. This was perfect.

Upon getting home me manages to slip away from Phil, and even Tommy and Tubbo, arguing over whether or not the floor is still lava if you put a blanket on it, going straight to his room and looking up “record player”

49.99

69.99

99.99

He stares blankly at the prices, then sighs. Too in deep now to back down, he guesses.

__________________________________________________

Techno picks up the large box, setting it in Wilbur’s lap. “This one’s from me.” he declares, shooting him a quick smile, laced with pride when he sees Wilbur’s initially shocked expression. 

He’d assumed the big box, wrapped in that obnoxious sparkly red paper, was something from Phil, not his brother, and felt anticipation build in his stomach when he notices Techno’s subdued expression of excitement.

Techno couldn’t completely comprehend he scrapped together 100 dollars in a couple weeks, but It happened. He picked up Tubbo’s chores, collected bottles and cans to return to those big supermarket machines Wilbur used to be afraid of as a kid, even skipped lunch a couple weeks at school, instead saving the crisp, 20 dollar bill that Phil gave them each for lunch every week.

“Okay...” Wilbur cocks a side smile back, letting out a little breathy chuckle as he carefully peels the tape off (despite the protests from Tommy to get a move on, because it’s not like they ever save the paper for anything), then lets the paper fall to the floor. It takes him a second, his eyes scanning over the plain white top of the box, before moving to the side, his eyes widening. “No way”.

Techno can’t help but break into a full fledged grin, watching his normally over-composed brother break into unbridled, childlike glee. It was like something out of one of those old Christmas films Phil makes them all watch every year- his cheeks turning a dusted pink, normally narrowed eyes widened, neutral mouth upturned into a smile. “Well?”

“No way- really?”

“Yeah.”

“For me?”

“Yeah!” 

“No way!” Wilbur’s eyes dart to the slick red letters on the top of the box, murmuring the buzzwords off to himself, as though to prove to himself he wasn’t being pranked. “Portable turntable... RCA audio output... full range stereo... No way!” he looks up at Techno, at an absolute loss for words, except for, of course, “No way!”

Setting the box down with the care of a father with his newborn child, Wilbur hurriedly gets up, stopping to hug Techno- a shocking act for everyone in the house, but especially for Techno, who practically gets the air knocked out of him- then runs upstairs, coming back down with his arms stacked with the records he’d amassed.

Techno laughs a little. He can tell Wilbur’s set to have a very, very good day.

The rest of the day, Wilbur is caught, happy as a clam, in a cycle: either choosing a new record to listen to, flipping the record that’s playing already over, or sitting close by the window with his new prized possession, the volume on low, watching the record spin, a calm excitement in his eyes. Not even Tommy and Tubbo arguing could get him to pull his eyes from the dear sweet records and yell something that would get a disappointed, but maybe amused, look from Phil.

By the end of the night, as the last dishes were put away, Tommy and Tubbo already fast asleep, Wilbur was still listening to his records. He’d moved to the couch, tugging at the hem of his pants absentmindedly, head moving slowly to the gentle beat of... A Frank Ocean album. 

Channel Orange... no, Blonde. Techno only knows because when it was one of Wilbur’s favorites to play on rides home, it always seems to make him pipe up and tell Techno about how the instrumentals are stripped back to represent self discovery, how the songs are gender neutral or flip between pronouns, something about duality and sexuality. Techno, of course, has heard these things a thousand times before, but there’s always something so personal in the way he speaks about it, like it hits close to home, so he makes no remarks about it, Even when Wilbur sings breathily along to the closing lines.. I'm sure we're taller in another dimension, You say we're small and not worth the mention, You're tired of movin', your body's achin'...

“You didn’t have to, you know” Wilbur remarks, pulling Techno from his thoughts. “I was saving... you didn’t... have to do that for me.” he nods toward the record player, still slowly whirring out soft hums and gentle vocals.

Techno sits down next to his brother’s feet, scoffing lightly. “It’s your birthday, dummy. Of course I got you something you wanted.” he looks over “Unless you’re saying you want to take it back-”

“No! No, that’s not what I’m saying at all. It’s just...” Wilbur huffs, chest falling as he looks at his knees. “... you must’ve put in a lot of work for it. You didn’t have to do that for me”

“Wha-” he laughs a little, part because of the ridiculousness and part because of the dramatics of the statement. “Geez, Wil, I know you’re kinda into all the indie-sadboy shit, but really?”

“Huh?”

‘Wil, You’re my brother. I don’t need to, yeah, but I care about you. Of course I’m gonna do shit like that for you.” he elbows his knee playfully. “Remember when we were kids, like really little kids? When those shitheads were always trying to beat on me?”

Wilbur snorts “fuckin’ short kids. They’re always the angriest-”

“-Because they’re closer to hell. Yeah,” he laughs “And they never laid a hand on me. You know why?” He stops to see if Wilbur will respond, but he just looks down at his lap, a proud smile flickering across his face for a moment. He’ll take it. “It wasn’t those karate classes I begged Phil to enroll me in. it was my tall big brother, coming in like... like...”

“Like superman had entered.” Wilbur recounts. He’d heard this story more than a couple times, but still, his lips curl up at the comparison.

“Yeah.” Techno grins. “I could have protected myself. You didn’t have to do that for me. It must’ve taken a lot of courage.”

“It was nothing, after all, we’re...” Wilbur stops in realization of the anecdote presented to him, and shakes his head 

“... brothers. We look out for each other.” 

Before Wilbur can throw another comment in, Techno doubles down on his point. “If my brother did me the solid of keeping me safe all those years, biding my time so I could learn to defend myself. Taking the blows that were meant for me. You didn’t need to do that, Wil. You don’t need to be the strong one, but you do it. You do it for me, tubbo, Tommy, even Phil sometimes. the least I can do is make you happy.” He pats the leg of his still stony faced brother. “You deserve to be happy, Wil. You do know that, right?” he leans in a bit “... You do know that, right?”

Wilbur blinks a couple times, not looking up for a moment. Techno almost gives up, thinking he’s reverted back to his cool, poised persona. He’s about to bid him goodnight and go to bed, but he hears a quiet sniff. “... Wil?”

Wilbur pushes his hands under his glasses and covers his eyes, but his shaking shoulders give it away. Techno stands surprised, until he hears a sob escape Wilbur’s lips, and suddenly he’s got his brother, his big brother, his protector, collapsed into his arms, sobbing into his shoulder. There’s a million things Techno feels compelled to say, but Suddenly none of them matter. The sobs coming from his older brother shake his tall frame, and they’re laced with surprise that he was even doing this in front of his little brother- like this cry’s been sitting there at the pit of his stomach, threatening to come out, been a long time coming. But of all times, he didn’t expect it to be now.

Techno lets it happen. As time ticks by, he feels his brother stop tensing up, like something’s finally been taken off of him. When he finally pulls himself together, there’s only one thing Techno really needs to say.

“Happy Birthday, Wil.. Love you, man”

Wilbur doesn’t look up, but Techno can feel a small smile from the face still planted into his shoulder as Wilbur muffles out “..Love you too, Techno”

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this while exhausted, lmao. If people like it I'll go in and add more detail maybe. Hope it brought you some semblance of joy!


End file.
